Tuesday, July 11, 2023

O, my heart!

I'm getting some inquiries from miscellaneous folks, so here is an update on how I spent my weekend. Maybe in more detail than you want to know, but this is my way to share without repeating the same story over and over. Most importantly: I'm OK, I'm home, I'm resting! 

You may know that I've been battling some chronic health conditions over the last few years. Recently I've had difficulty with high blood pressure, and my docs decided to put me on a daily beta blocker. Maybe that helped cause trouble, or maybe it just helped to expose existing trouble. 

On Friday of last week, I slowly realized I was super-tired -- totally exhausted and very short of breath, much much worse than ever before. I tried to take my own blood pressure with two different home devices; both failed. I felt lightheaded and thought I might faint. When I couldn't stand at the sink long enough to fill a water glass... I called my primary doctor, called a driver, and headed for the nearby Emergency Room at our local hospital in Frankfort (FRMC). In retrospect, I should have called 911. I didn't want to accept that I may have a serious problem, and my thinking was fuzzy... maybe I was just dehydrated? 

I was seen quickly, and they took my blood pressure a few times. I don't know what the pressure was, but the heart rate (beats per minute) was 20: Bradycardia

Suddenly everything was happening in double-time. I overheard discussion that they did not have the "right kind" of cardiologist on staff, so I needed to go the nearby Med Center at the University of Kentucky (UK) in Lexington. NOW. By helicopter. While waiting for the helicopter to arrive, a young doctor created a fairly large hole with a tube in my neck, on the right side. "Just in case quick access to the heart is needed during the ride." Gulp. This is getting serious.

Normally if you asked me to ride in a helicopter, you would get a firm, "No way." Afraid of the 'copter, afraid of heights. But on this day I was relaxed and unworried; I had made it to where I needed to be to get help, these were the helpers, so I could relax. I watched our beautiful Bluegrass scenery unfold under the clear blue sky and thoroughly enjoyed the short trip. Maybe I was medicated, but I prefer to think that my guardian angels were very near. 

At UK it was near the end of the scheduled workday. I needed a pacemaker implant, but that doctor was not available until the next morning. So another young doctor went about creating a "temporary pacemaker" using the hole in my neck - in case of need during the night. Gulp again. It was a rather lengthy, complex process involving lots of pressure, heavy hardware taped to my shoulder, and intricate wire-bending. Not to mention hookups to multiple portable machines, multiple times: ultrasound, X-ray, EKG. Finally they were done, and I could sleep (covered in dozens of electrode stickers). A few hours later the contraption came undone and had to be constructed all over again. Should I be worried yet? 

Come Saturday morning, an older doctor appeared with an air of authority. The electrical impulses were not connecting between the upper and lower chambers of my heart. creating the need for a pacemaker (not a defibrillator). "Don't worry, I've done thousands of these." I welcomed the presence and prayers of the Episcopal priest with whom I had recently worked for many years. After rolling down to the cold Cath Lab, I repeated the Lord's Prayer until sleep came. 

 

And that was it. Problem solved! After one more night, they sent me home. I have a big new bandage near my left shoulder; can't wait for bandages on both sides to come off next week (itch, itch). I will have a little black box by my bedside for the rest of my life, remotely checking on the pacemaker every night. I have a few physical restrictions. But I feel great and am breathing normally, yay! I do still have other issues that I wish could be resolved so easily. But I'm still here.

I am so very grateful for so much. Grateful to my closest friends and family, who showed up in person and in spirit to provide support, grateful to the medical teams who did their jobs superbly, grateful for the miraculous technology that makes it all possible. I am grateful to God for my faith and comforting angels, and for being alive in a time and place that makes such a technological miracle into a commonplace occurrence.  







Saturday, June 24, 2023

Boomer Tech


I was recently asked, 
What was your first job? It caused me to reflect on the work done by my parents, as well as my own working career.   

The first memory this question provokes is of becoming aware of what a job is, and why one is needed. As a child of about five or six, I greatly enjoyed being “Daddy’s girl.” I would follow my dad around the house, yard, and garden, trying my best to help and earn his praise. Daddy worked as a skilled journeyman typesetter – a Linotype Operator – at a local newspaper on the second shift, so he left for work in the afternoon and returned home late at night. 

I wished he didn’t have to leave and could stay home every day, so I asked my mom, “Why does Daddy have to go to work?” The answer came quickly: “To make money, child. We need money to have a place to live, to buy food and clothes and things for the family.” Oh, OK, so it’s important for him to go. But one more thing: “What does Daddy do at work?” The quick answer from a busy mom: “He’s a printer.” Not long after, an adult asked me, “What kind of work does your father do?” My confident answer: “He prints money.” More questions quickly followed!

Linotype

https://www.printersdevil.ca/linotype-machine   

https://www.wikiwand.com/en/Linotype_machine

https://blogs.loc.gov/headlinesandheroes/2022/06/the-linotype-the-machine-that-revolutionized-movable-type/

VIDEOS: Step-by-Step: https://youtu.be/YAOOz_7_v9Q  

In Operation: https://youtu.be/M12sYvUb4)0

Linotype machines in a Composing Room

Thomas Edison called the Linotype the Eighth Wonder of the World. Made of 10,000 parts – 5,483 of which were moving – its mechanics were finer and more delicate than many of the operations that go into the making of a fine watch. It used molten metal heated to 550˚ F. Mistakes landed in a “hell box” for recycling. The seven-year apprenticeship included three years to learn to operate it, plus four years to learn to fix it! The skilled craftsmen who operated it were well-paid and highly sought after; they could move and find work just about anywhere, and they created a labor union that was responsible for eight-hour workdays and 40-hour work weeks.

Linotype matrix/mold made of brass

My father apprenticed at The Jackson Times in Jackson, KY, under the tutelage of Allen M. Trout, and spent most of his career at The Lexington Herald-Leader. I remember the industrial smell of hot metal and ink infused in his clothes, the stray brass matrices/molds that would occasionally appear in his pants cuffs, and a VERY LOUD tour of the Composing Room. Now I understand why he was always so insistent on accuracy and good spelling: on a Linotype, there was no backspacing over an error. A whole molten “line of type” would have to be re-set just to correct a single comma or character (then proofread again – backwards).[1] 
– Benjamin Franklin

Carelessness does more harm than a want of knowledge!

More than that, my father encouraged me to learn a skill – “something that not just everybody can do.” His was the mechanical age of Linotypes, mine was the emerging age of computers, but our two vastly different careers had much in common. He retired in 1972 as Linotypes faded from use. (He died in 1979; the benzene commonly used to clean the machinery was likely related to his leukemia.) My love of computerized desktop publishing and graphic design to create a printed page was surely influenced by those early smells of ink and attention to detail. I retired in 2022 just as Artificial Intelligence began to revolutionize computing. I wonder what marvels the next 50 years will bring.

Growing up in Lexington, I received a very modest allowance for doing small chores around the house, and I did some babysitting to earn a little cash. In junior high I began to pine for teen-ager things that were more costly than my earnings would cover – particularly clothing, as the family budget provided only bare minimums. My first solution was to skip lunch at school and save that money. When discovered, my parents put a quick stop to that. 
Then my dear stay-at-home mother took a part-time job as a lunch lady/cashier at a nearby elementary school to earn some extra pin money – much of which was spent on me. Among other things, she bought me some trendy Aigner shoes, a white sweater cape, a fashionable rabbit-fur hat, and a hard-bonnet hair dryer... She took me shopping at the upscale Purcell’s department store downtown where we bought three dresses, each of which I wore for years and can still describe in detail (girls could not wear pants to school until much later).


Rabbit-fur hat, trendy in late 60s

Most importantly, she bought fabric and taught me to sew on her old Singer treadle sewing machine. I’m not sure I adequately appreciated or thanked her for the hard work she did in that cafeteria and at home to help fulfill my teen-age desires, but she set a strong example for working hard, budgeting, spending, saving, “making do,” and showing love.



Mom's Singer Treadle


Patterns for styles from 70s


My computerized Singer machine today

In high school at Tates Creek I had my first real job interview. A new shopping mall was opening nearby (Fayette Mall) and several stores were coming into the school seeking students to fill various part-time retail positions. I was selected for an interview to work in a stationery store. I was Very Shy, and So Nervous! Sitting in a counselor’s office at age 16, I gave what I thought were great answers (i.e., very precise and short) to the interviewer. Finally he asked, Why should we hire you instead of someone else who walks through that door?

Welp. I hesitated, with no idea how to respond. It certainly did not seem right to brag about myself or to run down my fellow students. So I consciously decided to just stay quiet and, hmmm, look intelligently thoughtful – surely a technique to impress and guarantee success? The interviewer waited patiently while I maintained a carefully blank expression and ‘intelligent thoughtful silence’ for an awkwardly long time. Finally he thanked me for the interview, and it was over. Needless to say, I did not get the job. But I learned about the need for self-confidence, assertiveness, and professionalism. I never forgot that question, and to this day I still think of how I should have answered it. Speak up for yourself, girl!

I cut high school short in 1972 when I realized that by taking only one more class in summer school, I could fulfill all academic requirements and graduate a year ahead of schedule. I did so and enrolled at Lees Junior College in Jackson, Kentucky, enabled by a strong financial aid package that included a work-study program that was my first real job for pay. Due to my interest in sewing, I was assigned to work as an assistant in the Home Economics Department. The enthusiastic young professor was just a gem; work was fun! I got to use fancy new sewing machines, I learned all about a brand-new kitchen gadget called a microwave oven, and my salary helped cover the cost of tuition.

In 1974, while enrolled at the University of Kentucky (UK), I landed a job as a switchboard operator for the telephone company. Next were receptionist/bookkeeper stints in the offices of a local cemetery and an appliance store, followed by secretarial work at UK in the College of Education. When I was called to interview for a really good job at IBM in 1978, I remembered my high school fiasco and nailed it this time!


Switchboard

For a short while I worked for General Telephone as an Operator providing Long Distance and Information services, often on split shifts, sitting elbow-to-elbow in a long row of Operators with a supervisor walking behind. Busy, busy!


Word Processors

Starting in 1977, I worked in a state-of-the-art Word Processing Center at IBM Lexington, where we gave frequent tours to the public to show off the latest technology.

https://web.stanford.edu/~bkunde/fb-press/articles/wdprhist.html

 

Selectric Typewriter: https://www.ibm.com/ibm/history/ibm100/us/en/icons/selectric/breakthroughs/


Mag Card II Typewriter: (record and replay/change text, no screen)  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bW_jJjUarp0


Office System 6: (8” diskettes, small orange screen, first/massive ink jet printer)  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IBM_OS/6


Computers

In 1980 I completed a computer science curriculum called Special Programmer Training at the IBM Lexington typewriter plant and became a Programmer/Analyst. We used time-sharing terminals and batch processing for the mainframe computer that took up its own full floor. We coded batch jobs using programming languages such as COBOL, PL/1, Assembler, JCL, DB2, SQL and more; processing ran overnight, requiring 24/7 on-call duty in case of any sort of data abnormality or coding error.


IBM Mainframe System 360
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mainframe_computer
https://spectrum.ieee.org/building-the-system360-mainframe-nearly-destroyed-ibm


IBM Personal Computer
https://spectrum.ieee.org/how-the-ibm-pc-won-then-lost-the-personal-computer-market


 History of Data Storage

As Apollo 11 sped silently on its way to landing the first men on the Moon in 1969 (with my future husband working for NASA at Cape Kennedy), its safe arrival depended on a computer knitted together by LOL memory - rope core memory that was literally assembled by Little Old Ladies. In a factory outside Boston, they would weave the software instructions by threading slender copper wires through and around tiny magnetic cores. The Apollo Guidance Computer had 4KB RAM and a 32KB hard disk. 


Weaving the Way to the Moon 
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/technology/8148730.stm 

Punch Card 80 bytes (characters) 
Mag Card 5,000 bytes
Floppy Disks 80KB-1.44 MB
CD: 700 MB
DVD 4.7-17 GB.


Microchip components are so small they are measured in nanometers (nm). Some components are now under 10 nm, making it possible to fit billions of components on a single chip. In 2021, IBM introduced a microchip based on 2 nm technology, smaller than the width of a strand of human DNA. A nanometer is one-billionth of a meter or one-millionth of a millimeter. At that scale, it is possible to fit up to 50 billion transistors on a microchip the size of a fingernail. 





TELEPHONES

  
  
  
    


Desktops, Laptops, Tablets, Inkjet and Laser Printers…




CONSTANCY = CHANGE

Since that first work-study job in 1972, I was continuously employed through 2022 except for a few months here and there, with major changes of direction about every 10-15 years. 

In 1994, after IBM split off the typewriter plant to form Lexmark, I was still working at IBM itself and there was serious discussion of an out-of-state transfer. I opted to take a buyout instead, and with my husband Al, started a retail business selling personal computers and office supplies in downtown Paris, KY. After his death in 2000, I joined the local public library as the Information Technology (IT) Manager, supervising the library’s transition to automation, managing a network of about 30 computers for staff and public use, and teaching computer classes for adults. For years I moonlighted as a QuickBooks Bookkeeper for a thoroughbred horse farm – a delightful spot with lovely folks and magnificent animals. Later I moved to Frankfort, KY, and spent my final working years as the Parish & Financial Administrator for a church, focused on desktop publishing and bookkeeping. 

A friend’s young grandchild recently climbed into an unfamiliar car and said, “Where is the button to make it start?” Demonstration was needed to show how to use a key to start the car. Technology keeps changing. Our Boomer memories are slipping into historical footnotes. 

I remember when our first home telephone (a party line) was installed, and the first large-cabinet, tiny-screened black-and-white TV that soon followed. I remember calling and being ‘the Operator.’ I remember watching men walk on the moon. I remember manual typewriters, word processors without screens, and bookkeeping with oversize sheets of columnar paper. I remember running inventory for a manufacturing plant with thousands upon thousands of punch cards, and I remember driving to work at 2:00 a.m. to search meticulously through huge stacks of printouts because somebody coded an errant comma or other flaw, and batch jobs to process plant payroll or world trade shipping were impatiently demanding the fix (shades of that infernal comma fix on a Linotype!). 

Nowadays just about everyone has a powerful phone/ computer in a pocket or on a wrist. Starting an electric car takes only a pushbutton. Desktop publishing has replaced the Linotype machine, but the process still results in creating something useful from thin air. Daddy would be astounded! In my own Boomer lifetime, incredible gadgets from science fiction and wondrous technologies such as microchips, fiber optics, the Internet, social media, online shopping/ research/ entertainment/ education, streaming TV and music, smart appliances, satellites, space travel, incredible deep-space telescopes, and more – have carried us far beyond the fantastic, futuristic dreams of our youth. 

The knowledge of the universe is literally at our fingertips, and Artificial Intelligence is already creating the next big revolution in technology… 

“Truly the magic of myth and legend
 has come true in our time.” [2]


Mona Landrum Proctor
June 21, 2023


Dedicated to my loving parents
O.J. (Ollie James) Landrum, 1912-1979
Blanche Haddix Landrum, 1924-2011



                            

                   
                    





 

and my dear husband
Allan L. Proctor, 1938-2000
(pictured at NASA ca. 1968)

[1] “The Cost of a Comma,” Harvard Magazine, by Christopher Reed, 1998. https://harvardmagazine.com/sites/default/files/html/1998/11/comma.html

[2] The Mythical Man-Month, Frederick P. Brooks Jr., Addison-Wesley Professional (1975, 1995), accessed 6/21/23. 

Favorite Children’s Stories



Stories and books began for me with Aunt Edith. My mom’s oldest sister, she was an elementary school teacher then living in Ohio who visited our big old farmhouse near Winchester, KY, frequently during my childhood. 
Their mother had died young, leaving eight children to be raised by their father in depression-era Appalachia (in Breathitt County, KY). Edith stepped into the role of substitute mother for the brood… finishing college at Eastern Kentucky University, returning home to the mountains to teach, staying single through her young adult years to help her father raise the young ones. As her siblings grew up and had children of their own, she moved north to make her own life but continued to love, support, and indulge her nieces and nephews. 


I had a brother and sister who were ten and eight years older than me, joined by a baby brother when I was seven. With no siblings of my own age, I often played alone or with imaginary friends. While my mother was loving and warm, she was often busy with household chores in our big old farmhouse in Clark County, KY. Her kitchen always smelled of special delights, her cupboards were stuffed with canned goods from the garden, and her wringer washer spit out endless loads for drying on the clothesline. In my early years our water had to be pumped from a well, and the only heat for the big drafty rooms came from the kitchen stove and wood hauled to a fireplace. 
Mom would find time to sew lovely dresses and pinafores for me, and she often produced homemade treats such as popcorn balls, peanut-butter-roll candy and her special fudge, but she seldom had the time or inclination to sit still and read with me. My father read to me occasionally; his lap was the best place to be. Books were scarce and occasionally came from the library’s bookmobile, rarely from a store.
Aunt Edith’s visits were filled with books and stories, crafts and supplies, cuddles and games, treats and trips, and sometimes even new clothes; she always had time and plans for the children. In my child’s mind, she was much like a fairy godmother. She showed us how to make Christmas ornaments and small trees out of nylon net or old books and spray paint... I especially enjoyed the colorful pots of finger paint she supplied with a long roll of paper for unlimited doodling. At Easter she brought baskets, egg coloring kits, store-bought candy, and always a chocolate bunny for each basket. And she read to me! 
One of my Easter baskets was especially precious because it held a small book, The Tale of Peter Rabbit, by Beatrix Potter, plus a Wedgwood cup with a design matching the book illustrations (I still have both), and a big yellow stuffed rabbit. I was over the moon! Long after I could read for myself, I begged any likely-looking passer-by, “Please, please read Peter Rabbit to me!” I was frequently a sick child, often confined to indoors; cuddling with the little Peter Rabbit book and my big yellow stuffed rabbit was soothing and reassuring. I loved that Peter was welcomed home by a loving mother even after his mischief, and that he had a family of playmates. Best of all, it was my very own book! I also kept an active lookout for a real rabbit family scampering around our garden or fields – mixing in the idea of another favorite, The Velveteen Rabbit, by Margery Williams, about a stuffed rabbit who became real because he was loved.Around that time there were more funny and troublesome rabbits to discover. In the Uncle Remus tale of Brer Rabbit and the Tar Baby, by Joel Chandler Harris, Brer Rabbit begged not to be thrown in the briar patch… a tricky way to avoid being punished. It is not politically correct today, but I loved it then. 
[See The Complicated History of Uncle Remus, by Stacy Reece, Down South House & Home, https://downsouth.house/blogs/news/the-complicated-history-of-uncle-remus]

Not to be missed, Bambi had Thumper, Alice had the White Rabbit... and on our new television, Captain Kangaroo had Mister Bunny Rabbit, and cartoons had Bugs Bunny. Uncle Wiggily Longears, the old gentleman rabbit, used outlandish, funny words in many different stories and was a special favorite. For a while we even had some live but rather troublesome rabbits in a backyard hutch. Rabbits were “my thing.”

Another book of my very own was a large-size Big Golden Book, Walt Disney’s Alice in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll. Alice’s curiosity and puzzling adventures were comical but helped her to grow up and learn new things without fear. 

The Alice book’s mate, Walt Disney’s Cinderella, officially belonged to my sister but was one of my favorites. Cinderella’s ball gown was homemade, like the pretty dresses that my mother made for me. Her fairy godmother seemed to have a great physical resemblance to my Aunt Edith. I wasn’t too enamored of the Handsome Prince, but rather was fascinated by all the little animals that helped Cinderella because she was kind to them. 



Featuring the age-old story, this edition (c. 1950) had a pop-up pumpkin/coach on the inside front cover, which to me was as magical as the story.


Honorable mention must go to the Rogers and Hammerstein production of Cinderella for television in 1965, starring young Lesley Ann Warren. She was so lovely, the music and costumes so beautiful, it was simply spellbinding. The song In My Own Little Corner, In My Own Little Chair was my special favorite.


A beloved book that deserves to be mentioned in my list of favorites has no name that I remember and was so worn that the front cover was missing. It was a very thick, heavy literature book for teachers (again from Aunt Edith, outdated from her classroom) with small type and no illustrations, published in the 1940s, I think. It held a large number and wide variety of stories, fables, poems, and songs, arranged by reading grade level, K-12. Some that come to mind are Up in a Swing, Puss-n-Boots, The Princess and the Pea, Hansel and Gretel, O Captain My Captain, The Village Blacksmith, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, The Walrus and the Carpenter, The Marine Hymn, The Caisson Song, Annabelle Lee, and many more… I spent countless hours reading and re-reading from cover to cover. I enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment when reading ‘ahead of my grade level,’ and I firmly credit this book for solidifying my lifelong love of reading.


Misty of Chincoteague, by Marguerite Henry, is an unforgettable favorite that must be included here. This Newberry-award-winning book was handed down from my older siblings. The enchanting real-life story described how the ponies arrived on the island long ago and survived for centuries, and the present-day adventures of the siblings and ponies made a tender, exciting and relatable tale. 
For a while we boarded and were sometimes allowed to ride a pinto pony named Buttermilk, which strengthened our love for and feeling of connection to the story of Misty. The wild herd, the amazing “pony swim,” the 1961 movie made from the book, ongoing live news about Misty and her friends, and even our own home’s location amid the horse country of the Kentucky bluegrass solidified this story in each of our hearts for a lifetime.

Other childhood favorites that come to mind include picture books such as The Cat in the Hat, Are You My Mother?, The Five Chinese Brothers, Put Me in the Zoo - and later, stories such as Heidi, the Nancy Drew series, Jane Eyre, and Wuthering Heights


Oops, can’t forget Christmas! Along with many American children of the time, I heard two different storylines for Christmas – religious and secular. My youthful understanding was that the birth of Christ was the real reason for the season, to be honored in church and in our hearts; Santa and related commercial trappings were a fun way to celebrate such a special event. Kinda like a big birthday party for Jesus, in the spirit of giving. Shaky theology, maybe, but the mind of a child finds its own logic. 


Why the Chimes Rang, by Raymond MacDonald Alden, was an old but much-loved book in our household, a must-read at Christmas time and throughout the year. I can’t do better than this online review: 
“This is a beautifully written story based on an old legend. It has wonderful evocative symbolism: the old church with a bell tower soaring into the sky, touching the clouds and waiting for a perfect gift for the Christ child, a perfect gift of love. The beautiful illustrations by Mayo Bunker, enhanced with color, add much to this edition. The wonderful church set high on a hill in the midst of a great city somewhere far away, the Gothic church interior, the angel acting as the clapper – very evocative!” – Robert O. Adair. 


The Night Before Christmas, by Clement C. Moore, illustrated by George Trimmer – this specific large-size 1958 linen paperback version was filled with vibrant colors and outstanding illustrations. It has been read every Christmas Eve that I can remember, forming my mental images of Santa and Christmas for a lifetime. Today, 65 years later, it still comes out of storage to go under my holiday tree. We also had a thin paperback holiday song book; I remember my dad singing softly, almost in a whisper, to teach me the tune to O Little Town of Bethlehem. 


One Christmas Eve in that big, cold farmhouse, I was snugly tucked into a roll-away bed in the living room under toasty layers of homemade quilts, firmly determined to stay awake long enough to see Santa come bounding down the chimney. Hearing distant reindeer bells, watching sparkling embers and multi-colored tree lights, clutching my doll Suzie and willing my heavy eyelids to stay open, I fully expected to see the head elf himself appear at any moment – but my spying efforts were never successful. 


Christmas morning was a mystical delight, defined by the sights and smells of crisp, cold oranges, apples, nuts, and candy sprinkled on and around the plump stockings, mysterious bright packages, and fragrant, sparkling pine tree. 


Thank you, Mom and Dad, and Aunt Edith, too – for the love, work and sacrifices that made so many magical memories.